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conception of perfection； however； was different。 The dynamic nature of
their philosophy laid more stress upon the process through which
perfection was sought than upon perfection itself。 True beauty could be
discovered only by one who mentally completed the incomplete。 The
virility of life and art lay in its possibilities for growth。 In the tea…room it
is left for each guest in imagination to complete the total effect in relation
to himself。 Since Zennism has become the prevailing mode of thought；
the art of the extreme Orient has purposefully avoided the symmetrical as
expressing not only completion； but repetition。 Uniformity of design was
considered fatal to the freshness of imagination。 Thus； landscapes； birds；
and flowers became the favorite subjects for depiction rather than the
human figure； the latter being present in the person of the beholder himself。
We are often too much in evidence as it is； and in spite of our vanity even
self…regard is apt to become monotonous。
In the tea…room the fear of repetition is a constant presence。 The
various objects for the decoration of a room should be so selected that no
colour or design shall be repeated。 If you have a living flower； a painting
of flowers is not allowable。 If you are using a round kettle； the water
pitcher should be angular。 A cup with a black glaze should not be
associated with a tea…caddy of black laquer。 In placing a vase of an
incense burner on the tokonoma； care should be taken not to put it in the
exact centre； lest it divide the space into equal halves。 The pillar of the
tokonoma should be of a different kind of wood from the other pillars； in
order to break any suggestion of monotony in the room。
Here again the Japanese method of interior decoration differs from that
of the Occident； where we see objects arrayed symmetrically on
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mantelpieces and elsewhere。 In Western houses we are often confronted
with what appears to us useless reiteration。 We find it trying to talk to a
man while his full…length portrait stares at us from behind his back。 We
wonder which is real； he of the picture or he who talks； and feel a curious
conviction that one of them must be fraud。 Many a time have we sat at a
festive board contemplating； with a secret shock to our digestion； the
representation of abundance on the dining…room walls。 Why these
pictured victims of chase and sport； the elaborate carvings of fishes and
fruit？ Why the display of family plates； reminding us of those who have
dined and are dead？
The simplicity of the tea…room and its freedom from vulgarity make it
truly a sanctuary from the vexations of the outer world。 There and there
alone one can consecrate himself to undisturbed adoration of the
beautiful。 In the sixteenth century the tea…room afforded a welcome
respite from labour to the fierce warriors and statesmen engaged in the
unification and reconstruction of Japan。 In the seventeenth century； after
the strict formalism of the Tokugawa rule had been developed； it offered
the only opportunity possible for the free communion of artistic spirits。
Before a great work of art there was no distinction between daimyo；
samurai； and commoner。 Nowadays industrialism is making true
refinement more and more difficult all the world over。 Do we not need
the tea…room more than ever？
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The Book of Tea
V。 Art Appreciation
Have you heard the Taoist tale of the Taming of the Harp？
Once in the hoary ages in the Ravine of Lungmen stood a Kiri tree； a
veritable king of the forest。 It reared its head to talk to the stars； its roots
struck deep into the earth； mingling their bronzed coils with those of the
silver dragon that slept beneath。 And it came to pass that a mighty
wizard made of this tree a wondrous harp； whose stubborn spirit should be
tamed but by the greatest of musicians。 For long the instrument was
treasured by the Emperor of China； but all in vain were the efforts of those
who in turn tried to draw melody from its strings。 In response to their
utmost strivings there came from the harp but harsh notes of disdain； ill…
according with the songs they fain would sing。 The harp refused to
recognise a master。
At last came Peiwoh； the prince of harpists。 With tender hand he
caressed the harp as one might seek to soothe an unruly horse； and softly
touched the chords。 He sang of nature and the seasons； of high
mountains and flowing waters； and all the memories of the tree awoke！
Once more the sweet breath of spring played amidst its branches。 The
young cataracts； as they danced down the ravine； laughed to the budding
flowers。 Anon were heard the dreamy voices of summer with its myriad
insects； the gentle pattering of rain； the wail of the cuckoo。 Hark！ a tiger
roars；the valley answers again。 It is autumn； in the desert night； sharp
like a sword gleams the moon upon the frosted grass。 Now winter
reigns； and through the snow…filled air swirl flocks of swans and rattling
hailstones beat upon the boughs with fierce delight。
Then Peiwoh changed the key and sang of love。 The forest swayed
like an ardent swain deep lost in thought。 On high； like a haughty
maiden； swept a cloud bright and fair； but passing； trailed long shadows
on the ground； black like despair。 Again the mode was changed； Peiwoh
sang of war； of clashing steel and trampling steeds。 And in the harp
arose the tempest of Lungmen； the dragon rode the lightning； the
thundering avalanche crashed through the hills。 In ecstasy the Celestial
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monarch asked Peiwoh wherein lay the secret of his victory。 〃Sire；〃 he
replied； 〃others have failed because they sang but of themselves。 I left
the harp to choose its theme； and knew not truly whether the harp had
been Peiwoh or Peiwoh were the harp。〃
This story well illustrates the mystery of art appreciation。 The
masterpiece is a symphony played upon our finest feelings。 True art is
Peiwoh； and we the harp of Lungmen。 At the magic touch of the beautiful
the secret chords of our being are awakened； we vibrate and thrill in
response to its call。 Mind speaks to mind。 We listen to the unspoken；
we gaze upon the unseen。 The master calls forth notes we know not of。
Memories long forgotten all come back to us with a new significance。
Hopes stifled by fear； yearnings that we dare not recognise； stand forth in
new glory。 Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour；
their pigments are our emotions； their chiaroscuro the light of joy； the
shadow of sadness。 The masterpiece is of ourselves； as we are of the
masterpiece。
The sympathetic communion of minds necessary for art appreciation
must be based on mutual concession。 The spectator must cultivate the
proper attitude for receiving the message； as the artist must know how to
impart it。 The tea…master； Kobori…Enshiu； himself a daimyo； has left to
us these memorable words： 〃Approach a great painting as thou wouldst
approach a great prince。〃 In order to understand a masterpiece； you must
lay yourself low before it and await with bated breath its least utterance。
An eminent Sung critic once made a charming confession。 Said he： 〃In
my young days I praised the master wh